


ghosting

by unlshthfrckngbts



Category: Dorohedoro
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Missing Scene, because this is pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unlshthfrckngbts/pseuds/unlshthfrckngbts
Summary: He doesn’t know how much Risu remembers. He doesn’t know how much Risuknows.He’s always tried—ever since they first met—to protect Risu, and that often meant keeping secrets and maintaining a certain amount of distance.
Relationships: Aikawa & Risu (Dorohedoro), Aikawa/Risu (Dorohedoro)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	ghosting

**Author's Note:**

> written as something like a missing scene after aikawa finds risu in his apartment in chapter 74/75 and then takes care of him for a couple days because that little arc lives in my head Rent Free baby!

When Aikawa climbs the stairs to the apartment complex for the first time in years, he isn’t expecting much. He passes by an overstuffed mailbox on his way up, and something settles heavy in his chest. His feet take him to the door he needs by memory alone, and despite everything telling him it should be useless, he still pounds on the shitty wood and calls out for an answer.

He isn’t surprised when he gets nothing in response, but he is surprised when he tries the handle and finds it unlocked.

Aikawa crosses the threshold hesitantly. An unlocked door is never a good sign, but an unlocked door to a Cross-Eyes’ residence in this neighborhood is basically a deathwish. But he knows this apartment nearly as well as his own—if not better, honestly—and his dread and curiosity outweigh any nervousness or fear. The apartment is dark except for weak moonlight straining to light the space through a window, and—

And there’s the shadow of a hunched figure below the window.

“Risu?”

Aikawa yanks the cord to an overhead light, not even needing to fumble for it in the dark. The room is illuminated in a sickly yellow glow, and the figure curls in on itself on the floor against the wall like a startled animal. Aikawa feels something both drop in his stomach and rise up into his throat at the motion, but it’s unmistakably him.

“Risu...” Aikawa says, staring down at his partner with his hand still gripping the light cord. Risu shifts ever so slightly on the floor, turning his head just barely to look up at Aikawa from his peripheral. The eye contact breaks Aikawa from his shock and immediately sends him to his knees in front of Risu, gently and cautiously pulling him up into a sitting position and taking stock of his tattered coveralls, the crusted and still fresh blood and ooze. “Risu...do you recognize me? It’s me, Aikawa...your partner.”

Recognition is quick on Risu’s face, and he breaks into an expression that is equal parts shocked and exhausted. “I know! Aikawa...as if I could ever forget you.”

“What _happened_ to you? Are you alright?” Aikawa asks despite the persistent turning in his gut and low throb at the base of his skull. Risu offers no answer. Aikawa feels hopeless. When he speaks next, it’s mostly for himself and he knows it. “Well, everything will be fine now. I’m with you.”

Risu tilts his head and gives a weak smile. He looks different, even compared to all the other times Aikawa has seen him bloody, battered, and tired. When was the last time he slept? When was the last time he ate? When—

“Oh!” Aikawa says, rising to his feet. “Are you hungry? I’ll go get you something. You should probably wash up too, and then I’ll look at your wounds when I get back. Do you think you can manage a shower by yourself?”

Risu drags a hand down his face and smears some dirt—blood?—in the process. “I don’t know if the water is still on,” he groans.

“Well that’s easy enough to check!” Aikawa assures him, retreating to the bathroom. It looks mostly the same as the last time he’d seen it, even if it was a little moldier and a lot dustier. He pulls back the dingy shower curtain and turns the faucet for the shower, giving it a few seconds before dark and cloudy water eventually sputters out. He runs it until it goes clear and begins to heat up, letting it go while he returns to his partner in the other room. “Water’s good. Probably full of lead or some shit, but when wasn’t it.”

Risu gives him that smile again, so Aikawa helps him to his feet and guides him to the bathroom. He catches a glimpse of their reflection in the foggy mirror, and his chest feels heavy.

“Alright, you wash up and I’ll be back with food as soon as I can,” Aikawa says, and he closes the bathroom door behind him on his way out.

He isn’t sure when the last time Risu ate was or what he’d even eaten, but his memory reminds him of a 24-hour noodle shop a few blocks down from his apartment complex that they used to frequent enough and at odd enough hours to earn the (likely well deserved) exasperation of the cook. He descends the stairs and exits the complex, not even bothering to survey the street before he starts into a light jog down the block.

The restaurant is right where he remembers it, and his relief is furthered when he sees the neon OPEN sign flickering away in the window. He enters and places an order of their usual bowls, but ducks back out of the shop to wait outside when the cook recognizes him and sends him a sharp glare.

Outside the restaurant, Aikawa drops into a squat and leans back against the grimy bricks, letting out an exhale and trying to process the last hour. Risu is alive, first of all, and that alone is something he knows shouldn’t be possible. He has fragmented memories from that _thing_ in him, but it’s just his luck that that day two years ago is one that remains clear and complete, no matter how hard he tries to forget.

He doesn’t know how much Risu remembers. He doesn’t know how much Risu _knows_. He’s always tried—ever since they first met—to protect Risu, and that often meant keeping secrets and maintaining a certain amount of distance.

Aikawa’s in the middle of a quarter life crisis on the curb of the noodle shop when the young cashier pokes her head out to tell him his food is ready. He takes the offered bag and gives her a small nod in thanks before he sets off to return to Risu’s apartment.

When he gets back, Aikawa finds the front door still unlocked, so he takes it as a win. If Risu had known anything and wanted him to stay away, he _probably_ would’ve locked him out.

He announces his return as he closes the door behind him, but he receives no response like earlier. The light in the empty sitting room is still on, but Aikawa can see that the bedroom light is on now too. He sets the warm bag of food on the counter and walks down the short hallway, stopping at the door to Risu’s bedroom.

Risu is sitting on the edge of his bed with his back to the door, and Aikawa suddenly realizes that he _hates_ seeing Risu’s back. He swallows bile and gives a light knock on the doorframe, watching Risu’s shoulders jump in reaction to the noise. Risu jumps to his feet quickly and spins around, already on the defensive, before he sees Aikawa and his posture relaxes.

“I’m back,” Aikawa says. He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “That noodle place we used to go to all the time was still open. Hope you’re in the mood for ramen.”

They eat in a neutral silence. Aikawa pretends not to stare at Risu, so he pretends not to notice the way Risu stares back at him when he removes his mask for their meal. As expected, Risu eats his food quickly, all manners out the window as he hungrily slurps his noodles and looks up at Aikawa every thirty seconds from where he’s hunched over his bowl.

When Aikawa has finished his own ramen, he finally allows himself to more openly look at Risu. His hair is no longer matted and grimy, and the smears of blood and dirt are gone. He’s wearing a sweater that he bought once when Aikawa was with him, and he looks so...normal. Aikawa almost feels like if he wasn’t careful, he’d fall into thinking this was just another day.

Risu catches him looking and straightens, giving him an odd look that’s made entirely unthreatening by a piece of seaweed stuck to the corner of his mouth. “What?”

“Nothing,” Aikawa says, and without thinking, he leans forward to swipe the rogue seaweed from his face with his thumb. Just like he would’ve any other day.

He realizes his mistake when Risu immediately flinches away from his touch, and Aikawa wants to stab himself in the gut for being such an idiot. He quickly sits back in his seat and stares at the table.

“I should go,” he says quickly. He risks a glance up at Risu, who’s just staring at him in shock. “I’m glad you’re okay. You can call me if you need anything and I’ll come right ba—”

“Stay.”

Aikawa’s head snaps up to look at Risu in confusion. “What?”

“Stay,” Risu repeats. He then looks off to the side and avoids making eye contact. “You’re my partner. I’ve missed you.”

Aikawa swallows around a dry throat and nods. It seems like somehow, he hasn’t fucked this up after all. “Okay.”

He sits quietly while Risu finishes eating, takes the trash out to the dumpster when he does. When he comes back, he locks the front door and feels the exhaustion and emotion settle heavy on his shoulders, body begging for rest. Risu is brushing his teeth in the bathroom—Aikawa briefly wonders if he would still find his own toothbrush sitting in the cup in the medicine cabinet if he checked—so he busies himself with dragging out the futon from under Risu’s bed and setting up his sleeping arrangements for the night. It’s an old, ratty thing they’d bought for cheap secondhand years ago, before they’d even become partners. It hadn’t gotten used much after that point, but he figures that after the seaweed screw up, giving Risu space is probably a good idea.

Risu enters his bedroom and squints at Aikawa setting up the futon, but he doesn’t say anything. He waits until Aikawa is settled before he turns off the light and crawls into his bed, the old box springs creaking from sudden weight after sitting unused for so long.

“Goodnight, Risu,” Aikawa says softly to the darkness above him.

“Night, Aikawa,” comes the quiet reply.

Aikawa lays on his back and closes his eyes, knowing that if he kept them open he would just endlessly search the darkness all night. His body is tired and his head hurts in a fatigued way, but the ache in his chest is the most distracting. He remembers the smell of this place, the sounds of the street below, the way the moon lights the room at its highest point in the sky because Risu always forgets to close the blinds at night. It feels like he’s reliving memories rather than experiencing it.

He isn’t sure how long he lays there, awake but not fully there, not asleep no matter how hard he tries. He can hear Risu’s breathing above him, and he tries to focus on it, match his own to that rhythm. He feels like he might be on the verge of sleep when it finally comes.

“Will you just get up here?”

Aikawa slowly opens his eyes to the dark room. “What?” he asks, just to make sure.

“I said will you get up here? You’re laying in that thing like we used it at all in the last like three years. It’s weird,” Risu says, voice quiet.

Aikawa slowly gets up and climbs into the space Risu’s made for him in his bed, ignoring the fact that it’s really not a mattress made for two large men, just as they always have. He lays on his back in a neutral position, neither facing Risu nor turning his back to him.

He’s not sure if Risu wants to talk. He’s not sure if he wants any comfort or a gesture or anything. He’d resigned to giving him space and letting him come around, but—

Aikawa surrenders and turns on his side to face Risu, only to find Risu already facing him and watching him. “Are you really okay?”

Risu’s face is more open in the darkness, and his eyes flit across Aikawa’s face. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, the smallest waver in his voice. Aikawa is certain he’s the only one who’s heard Risu’s voice so soft. “None of this feels real. Why are you here?”

“Because you asked me to stay.”

“But... _why_?”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Aikawa asks, confused.

“Because I _died_ , Aikawa,” Risu says, and that’s it, that’s the point of no return. Aikawa feels his fingertips go numb because _oh_ , he does know, he does remember, and it seems like it’s bothering him a lot more than he’d been letting on earlier. “I was _dead_ for _two years_.”

Aikawa isn’t sure how to respond. He can’t be upset with Risu for being bothered by it, but he also can’t be careless about this conversation. “But I’m still here. And I will be here from now on, because we’re partners. We can go back to normal and go to school together again.”

“Did you even look for me?” Risu asks then, and his voice is small. Too small, and it stabs Aikawa in the chest and _twists_.

“I—” Aikawa falters, and he watches Risu’s heart break in front of his eyes. He feels that _thing_ deep inside of him roiling in satisfaction, and bile rises in his throat. He swallows heavily and raises a hand slowly—slow as not to startle, slow to give Risu every chance to shy away, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He’s never had a self-preserving bone in his body. Aikawa brushes Risu’s bangs out of his eyes and tries to soothe the wrinkle in his forehead with his thumb. He decides on a half truth that isn’t a full lie: “I tried.”

Risu’s eyes are wide and watery, and Aikawa has never seen him so vulnerable before, not even when his back was so foolishly turned and his guard so foolishly down in Salmanazar Field. It’s unsettling. “You’re lying.”

Aikawa slides his hand down to properly cup his face, knows his own eyebrows are furrowed. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever cared about, Risu. You really think I wouldn’t look for you?”

Risu turns his face into Aikawa’s hand and closes his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says through a shaky exhale. “I don’t know anything. I don’t know who killed me or _why_ , but it was someone from the Cross-Eyes. That much I _do_ know. But everything else...nothing makes sense.”

“You know me,” Aikawa says weakly. What he doesn’t say is, _But it’d be better for you if you didn’t._ “You know me, your partner. And I’m here now.”

Risu’s eyes snap open and he flinches out of his hold. “Except I don’t. I don’t know anything about you, Aikawa! Not really!” He deflates almost immediately. “I don’t even know where you live.”

Aikawa frowns. He so badly wants to avoid this conversation, to tell Risu that he keeps these secrets for Risu’s own safety, but clearly that plan didn’t even work in the first place. He still failed him, still got him killed. It’s his turn to sigh now, and he falls onto his back to squint at the stained ceiling of Risu’s bedroom in the darkness.

“Aikawa?” Risu asks, propping up on an elbow to look down into his face. His eyes are concerned and searching, but his expression is guarded. Aikawa wants to laugh about it.

“We can go to my place sometime, if it means that much to you,” he finally says. He meets Risu’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought the less you knew about me, the better.”

Risu leans over him more fully now and gives him an odd look. “What kind of logic is that? We’re partners.”

Aikawa gently shoves him to the side and flips onto his stomach to pin Risu across his clavicle with an elbow. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but the world we live in is pretty dangerous.”

“You asshole,” Risu scowls. “You wanna rub some more salt in the wound?”

Aikawa lays his head down on his arm. “No. But sometimes knowledge is dangerous in the wrong hands.”

“If you’re afraid of the Cross-Eyes coming after you—”

“What, you think I couldn’t take the losers of some poor gang?” Aikawa keeps his tone light and joking, but he’d probably be grimacing behind the safe concealment of his mask normally. “That’s not it.”

“Oh, so you’re just a popular target then?” Risu jokes.

“This isn’t about _me_ ,” Aikawa says, rolling his eyes. “It’s about _your_ safety.”

“Yeah, well,” Risu huffs, “what a successful job that did. You can’t preach about keeping secrets for my safety when you told somebody else about my magic and got me killed.”

Aikawa bristles. “I didn’t tell anybody about your magic.”

“Well, you’re the only one I told! So how else could this have happened? You gonna say you’re fucking wiretapped or something?”

_Something like that_. Aikawa tries not to focus on the way Risu’s forehead looks about a minute away from splitting open in another pair of eyes. “I didn’t tell anybody. I know how rare and dangerous your magic is, Risu. I know that there are people out there who come after guys like you for that magic.”

“So you _do_ pay attention in school,” Risu muses.

“Hey, fuck off.”

Risu rolls onto his side, back facing Aikawa now. “I’m tired. It’s hard being dead and then coming back to life.”

Aikawa lays there for a few minutes, unsure of how to proceed. Risu seems to be more accepting of conversation and touch now, but he doesn’t want to push it. He’s still unsure where they stand, and all of this still feels so fragile. Seeing Risu at all—let alone _alive_ —feels too good to be true.

Still. “I mean it, Risu,” he says quietly. “You’ve been my one and only from day one.”

He receives no answer to that, and he figures it’s just how it’ll be. Aikawa closes his eyes and allows himself to drift into sleep.

  
  
  


When Risu wakes up in the morning, he momentarily forgets where he is, despite being in his own bed in his own home. The sun is still light and weak in what rays manage to cut into the room through the open blinds, telling him it’s still quite early. His entire body aches, and he’s not sure he could sit up even if he wanted to. He shifts to lay on his other side, but the sight he’s met with freezes him in the middle of the action, half propped up on an elbow.

Aikawa lays beside him, still asleep and drooling into Risu’s only good pillow. Even though it’d become a frequent habit for Aikawa to spend the night once they’d become partners, more often than not Risu had gotten used to waking up alone in bed as if he’d never even been there. There’d always been some excuse about a job or a headache or some other vague and terse reason.

Risu lays his head down on the opposite end of the pillow and stares at the man laying next to him. It’s Aikawa as he’s always known him—strong jaw, thick eyebrows, hair that should be permanently matted against his skull from the frequency with which he wears that hat of his (but somehow isn’t). He doesn’t look any different from the last time Risu saw him, but something deep in his core feels wary as he looks at this sleeping face, and it agonizes him.

But he’s here. He’s here and he’d somehow found Risu despite all the time Risu had spent looking for him with no luck, and that has to mean something. And it does, really. Despite the confusion and frustration and the fact that he was killed but doesn’t know _why_ , Aikawa is still here, and he’s at the very least acting like he cares about Risu, which is more than anyone else had _ever_ bothered to do.

Risu lifts a hand with excruciating effort to run his fingers through Aikawa’s hair, watching the man’s face shift into a frown in his sleep from the stimulus. He continues the gentle motion until Aikawa’s eyes squint open, confused until he registers Risu’s face across from his own.

“Good morning,” Risu says, returning his hand to the mattress.

“Morning,” Aikawa yawns. “Man, what time is it?”

“Dunno. Maybe eight.”

Aikawa groans dramatically. “Waking me up early...so cruel, Risu.” A pause, and then he searches Risu’s face. “How are you feeling today?”

“Like shit,” Risu confesses. “It feels like I was on that one devil game show where they see who can last the longest being tortured in different ways.”

“Fuck, that show was brutal,” Aikawa laughs. He slowly lifts his own hand to rest it on Risu’s cheek when he doesn’t jerk away from the motion, sliding his hand back to run his fingers through Risu’s hair just as Risu had done minutes ago to him. “Your hair looks like shit, too.”

Risu tries to punch him, but Aikawa easily slides out of his reach, laughing all the while. Risu frowns and huffs, catching the hem of Aikawa’s sleeve and using it to pull him back close with extreme effort and ignoring his aching muscles. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

Risu leans over and gently presses his lips to Aikawa’s, just for a moment, just to remember. When he pulls away and looks into Aikawa’s face, he’s met with a multitude of emotions in his expression and a blush spreading across his nose.

“So you don’t hate me?” Aikawa asks, voice rough in a way Risu knows he’s currently kicking himself over.

“Jury’s still out,” Risu hums, kissing him again.

Less shocked this time, Aikawa places a hand lightly on the nape of his neck, sending a shiver down Risu’s spine as he kisses him back. He pulls back with a smirk. “Is there any convincing them?”

“Getting rid of that morning breath would be a start,” Risu says playfully, flopping onto his back. “Did you even brush your teeth?”

“I didn’t know if my toothbrush was still here or not!” Aikawa grumbles in protest, suddenly self conscious and holding a hand up to cover his mouth.

“It’s still here, in the medicine cabinet where it’s always been.”

Aikawa pouts and sits up, stretching as he does. “Tell you what. I’ll brush my teeth and then go pick up some groceries to make breakfast. You stay here and rest.”

Risu stares up at him, sunlight framing his figure, and it’s like he can feel his heart clenching. He watches Aikawa clamber out of the bed and rustle through the futon blanket in search of his hoodie on the floor, and Risu suddenly feels too big for his heavy body. “Aikawa?”

His partner turns to look at him once he’s found the hoodie, sliding into it and zipping it up to his chin. “Yeah? You need something before I go?”

Risu swallows. “You’re the only one who cares about me like this.”

Something flashes across Aikawa’s face at that, but it’s gone before Risu can ponder it too long. Instead, he comes swooping down to kiss Risu once more before he’s playfully shoved away with another insult about stinky breath, and Risu chooses to ignore the way his fingers involuntarily hold on to the front of Aikawa’s hoodie for longer than necessary.

“One and only, Risu,” Aikawa says, ruffling Risu’s hair for good measure before he goes. He picks up his hat and mask from the floor, placing the former on top of his head and then snapping the latter into place. “I’ll be back before long.”

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth,” Risu reminds him as he watches him exit the bedroom, anxiety already building in his chest that maybe Aikawa _won’t_ come back, or maybe Aikawa _doesn’t_ care and really does want him dead.

But, true to his word, Aikawa returns, and he smiles when Risu cringes at the eggs he’d managed to burn for breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> thinking about these two makes me so fucking sad lmao anyways talk to me about dorohedoro and risu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/unlshthfrckngbt)


End file.
